


Stolen Goods

by Nopride4531



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Slight Hurt/Comfort, oh look: Brynjolf finally has time for someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 18:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11492190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nopride4531/pseuds/Nopride4531
Summary: Brynjolf and Colrina get stranded in Windhelm during a snowstorm. With only one small room available in the Candlehearth Hall, they're finally forced to confront one another—and their undeniable feelings.





	Stolen Goods

“Storm’s getting worse,” Colrina huffed, barely keeping her teeth from chattering. “I don’t think we’ll get too far if we leave Windhelm.” 

Glancing up at the darkened sky, Brynjolf frowned and rubbed snow off his face. “Aye, Lass. Most of the roads’re probably covered already.”

“Should we try the Candlehearth, or are you banned there too?” Her tone was teasing, yet had a hint of bitter bite to it; she remembered their attempt to stay at the Windpeak all too well. 

“Sticks and stones, Col,” he murmured as he playfully jabbed his elbow into her ribs. “But all things consider, we should be alright.” He took her arm in his own. “Now come on; let’s get out of this weather.” 

Colrina had never stayed in the Candlehearth Hall, not even when she visited Windhelm for the first time. She’d gone to the New Gnisis Cornerclub instead, preferring the company of the Dark Elves to that of Rolff Stone-Fist, and the mead there was the best she’d ever had. Honestly, she would’ve preferred to return, but that tavern resided in the Gray Quarter, and an Imperial woman frequenting it might make life more difficult for its inhabitants. 

She and Brynjolf drew in a flurry of snow when they opened the door to the inn. Elda glowered at them as she wiped down her counter, but said nothing, apparently not wanting to drive away potential business. Colrina decided to handle securing their rooms, telling Brynjolf to wait upstairs for her, and he nodded before disappearing. Satisfied, she crossed the small distance to the innkeeper.

“Two rooms,” she said and placed a handful of Septims on the counter. “And whatever’s in the cooking pot.” 

Elda glanced at the coin, then at the Imperial. “’S only  _one_  room available... and we’re cooking up some venison stew.”

Colrina internally groaned. Great. Not only would she have to share a room with someone, she would have to share it with  _Brynjolf._ Not that he wasn’t good company, but it was no secret that the two of them had... chemistry with one another. Despite that she knew how relationships in the Guild usually ended, she couldn’t help the flutter of excitement in her chest whenever he was around, nor her desire to be close to him. Something about his easy-going demeanor and affable smile caused her heart to beat uncontrollably—and she couldn’t deny that she felt  _something_  for him. 

Shaking her head, Colrina brought herself back to reality. It was either share the room, or spend the night out in the cold. “We’ll take it,” she muttered, retrieving some of the gold.  _Divines help me, we’ll take it._  

After showing her which one was theirs, Elda went back to wiping down her counter. Colrina thanked her, then trudged up the stairs to meet Brynjolf, hoping that he wouldn’t react  _too_  badly to their situation. 

She found him sitting at a table toward the back of the room, absently drawing circles into the woodwork with his fingers. He looked up and smiled brightly when he saw her, immediately straightening out of his slouch. “Did you get the rooms, Lass?” He asked as she sat down across from him, and Colrina bit her lip.

“Well, sort of,” she stammered, looking anywhere but at him. “There’s, uh, there’s only one.” Forcing herself to meet his eyes, she frantically tried to cover up her hesitation: “You can have it; I don’t mind finding another place.” 

For a moment, Brynjolf merely stared at her, apparently just as stunned by the information as she’d been. Colrina lowered her gaze to the table, feeling the unwanted sting of tears threatening her vision. She should’ve known. She should’ve known that he wouldn’t want to do  _anything_  with her, let alone share a room. Divines, she was an idiot! What made her think that there was  _any_  sort of chemistry between them? What made her—

“Col.”

He said her name softly, more gentle than she’d ever heard him speak in all the time she’d known him, and she reluctantly raised her eyes to meet his. Green bore into brown as he watched her carefully, silently, until he eventually spoke:

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Even the ‘insult’ was gentle. “We’ll share the room.”

Feeling a flutter of hope in her chest, Colrina found herself smiling slightly. “If you say so, Bryn,” she said, once more in control, and then desperately changed the subject: “So... I hear there’s venison stew in the cooking pot.”

Two hours saw them walking into  _their_  (the idea still made her feel dizzy) room for the night, the bustle of the tavern having died down considerably. Much to her chagrin, there was only one bed. She briefly turned to Brynjolf to ask him if he wanted it, but one look from him told her all she needed to know: they were sharing the room, so they might as well share the bed. 

He sat down on one side while Colrina sat on the opposite, taking great care to keep her back to him. She unbuckled a few straps on her Guild armor and pulled the cuirass off altogether, leaving her in the thin brown slip she wore to protect her skin from the leather. After she removed her gloves and boots, she lay back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling, refusing to even glance Brynjolf’s way. Eventually, he did the same, and the two of them relaxed, listening to the walls creak and groan. 

“The... the wind’s really howling,” Colrina murmured after a while, once she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Surprised this old place is still standing.” 

“Aye,” Brynjolf quietly responded. “Do you believe all that talk about the candle?”

She mustered up enough courage to look over at him, only to find him already watching her. “Do you?” 

“I do.” He smiled slightly. “I’ve always been one for legends.” 

_Then you’d_ love _the one where I’m the Dragonborn,_  she thought guiltily, wondering why she hadn’t told him yet. “So have I.”

He grinned wider and carefully brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “So you  _do_  believe in the candle.” 

She leaned into his touch before she could stop herself, reveling in the warmth of his hand. “I only believe in one thing,” she said, reaching out to caress his cheek, and he pulled her closer to him despite his momentary shock.

“And what’s that?”

Colrina shifted until their lips were almost touching. “You.”

And that seemed to be enough for him. Cupping her face, Brynjolf pressed his lips to hers, gently, but with an urgency that’d been building up for quite some time. She kissed him back just as fervently, letting go of all her anxiety and allowing him—the man she loved—into her heart.  


End file.
